


Charmed and Dangerous

by captainswanapproved



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainswanapproved/pseuds/captainswanapproved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern CS AU. When newly elected President Emma Swan meets Killian Jones, a journalist for the American Mirror, there is an instant and mutual attraction. They soon start a torrid love affair, and they are only able to keep it secret from the public with the reluctant help of Emma's personal bodyguard David Nolan. Will their romance end in happiness or scandal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The presidential fanfare rang through the park.

Killian Jones stood amidst the mass of press, holding his own camera aloft in hopes of getting that elusive perfect shot of Madame President as she entered with her Secret Service escort.

The camera flashes around him were blinding, but he’d grown used to it over his five years of reporting. 

When Ms. Mills offered him this particular assignment, he’d jumped at the opportunity. He’d never covered something as monumental as a post inaugural speech. Only the press and a handful of affluent politicians had been invited. 

The fanfare grew louder, and from the corner of his eye, he saw an armored car pull up alongside the lawn. It was surrounded by Secret Service agents. Killian gulped. This was it. 

This would be the first time he caught a glimpse of President Emma Swan up close. 

-/-

“You can do this, duckling,” said David softly, squeezing her wrist.

David Nolan was Emma Swan’s personal Secret Service agent, and the closest thing she had to family. He thumbed away a tear. “Don’t ever let them see you sweat.”

“What if they don’t like me, David,” asked Emma. Even she was not immune to moments of self-doubt. 

“They will. This nation elected you, and you won by a landslide. Your speech is perfectly memorized, and this is a small crowd. Just the press and some of your former peers. You’ll dazzle them.”

Emma hugged David quickly before schooling her features. As the first female president, she had to prove all the stereotypes wrong. She had to have a stiff upper lip, and speak with a commanding tone. She was no Hilary Clinton, with close cropped hair and pearls. She was the modern American female president, and she had some walls to break down. 

David slipped his earpiece in. “I’ve got your back, Emma. Always.” Then he opened the door for her, and she emerged to face the awaiting crowd.

She walked along the pathway which her shoulders straight and head held high. The presidential fanfare filled her with a burst of confidence. 

She mounted the platform, and took her place behind the podium. The American flag billowed lightly behind her in the breeze. 

Emma looked over the crowd, basking in flashes of one hundred cameras. She took a deep breath and began her speech.

-/-  
Killian’s jaw dropped as President Swan began to speak. Her voice was firm, powerful, and full of confidence. She looked out over the audience, her lips forming the words of the eloquent speech she had prepared. Her voice never wavered, and she never faltered because of bouts of applause, camera flashes, or shouts from the crowd.

She was certainly one hell of a woman, and his pride that he had voted for her increased. 

She was all golden hair and flawless pale skin and red lips. She seemed to glow. Killian couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and even the camera couldn’t capture her beauty. 

The end of her speech was met with thunderous applause, despite the small crowd. It was as if she had enchanted each and every one of them. At the very least, she had captured the full attention of one Killian Jones.

President Swan flashed a smile at the crowd and thanked them for their attention. 

-/-

The private Question and Answer time came next, but only a select few had been granted access. Ms. Mills had used her many vast connections to get one of the coveted White House press badges, which now hung from Killian’s neck. Killian understood that the American Mirror was a decidedly less prestigious paper, but Ms. Regina Mills was ruthless and connected to all the right people. 

Several members of the Secret Service parted the crowd, and collected the few with the badges. Killian joined their ranks, his heart racing at the opportunity to speak one one one with President Emma Swan. There were two other journalists, one from the Times and another from a prominent D.C. paper. 

The three of them were led to a small room across from the oval office. A blonde man with blue eyes came up to them. “I am David Nolan,” he said. “Each of you will have fifteen minutes for a personal interview with President Swan. Not a moment more. Mr. Keith, you’re first.” Mr. Nolan nodded gruffly at the man from the Times. 

They both exited the room, leaving Killian and the other journalist alone. Neither man spoke. Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Nolan called the other journalist in for his interview. 

Killian withdrew a small notebook and his lucky pen from his jacket. He loosened his tie a bit and took a deep breath. Ms. Mills had ordered him a Clavin Klein suit for the occasion. It was the finest he owned, and he found himself hoping that President Swan would appreciate it.

He knew the sentiment was unprofessional, but there was no denying that President Emma Swan was a gorgeous woman, and from the moment Killian laid eyes on her during her speech, he knew he was attracted to her. He also knew that he was a handsome man in his own right, although he had always chosen his career over romance, he was not blind to the female attention he received whenever he went out or from his coworkers. 

Killian ran a hand through his hair, and took another deep breath. No need to be nervous. Or so he thought.

He gulped when Mr. Nolan entered. The agent looked at his badge. “Come this way, Mr. Jones.”

Killian stood and followed the other man.

-/-

Emma Swan watched the door to the Oval Office through narrowed eyes. The last two journalists had irritated her, asking more about her personal life than her politics. The man of the D.C. paper had even flirted with her. It was the height of unprofessional behavior, and Emma was not amused.

The last reporter, she’d been told, was not from a prestigious publication. It was a national paper, but it was not as widely read as the Times or others like it. Maybe this reporter wouldn’t be cocky or presumptuous coming from a lesser known publication. She could only hope.

The door opened, and Emma braced herself for the worst.

Her breath caught in her throat when he entered. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was dressed in a black three piece designer suit with a deep blue tie to match his eyes. His raven hair was slightly messy and his strong jaw was lined with dark scruff. Emma felt her mouth go dry. He looked more like a male model than a reporter.

“Madame President,” he began.

Shit. He had a British accent to boot. This could be trouble.

“It is an honor to meet you. I am Killian Jones of the American Mirror.” He held out his hand to her, and the moment she took it, a shock of electricity jolted through her body. 

“Please sit,” she said, trying to keep her voice level, even as she felt a blush suffusing over her cheeks. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, but by the way he was grinning at her, she guessed that he already had.

To her surprise, he was completely professional, asking detailed questions about her plans for her term and her thoughts on different policies. Emma answered with all the decorum and thought she had. She had learned very quickly that a politician had to choose their words wisely, and it was a skill she had perfected over the years.

Emma couldn’t help but smile has he scrawled down her answers in his notebook, his dark brows furrowed in concentration.

The fifteen minutes passed too quickly for her liking. It was absurd. She’d been around hundreds of journalists, but Killian Jones was already her favorite. “It appears our time is up, Mr. Jones,” said Emma.

Killian looked up at her, his pen stilled. “Alas, you are correct.” He held out his hand, which she took again. “Thank you, Madame President. This has truly been the most thrilling moment of my career.”

Emma bit her lip to hold back a smile. “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Jones.” 

Then he smiled at her, and she could feel the burst of butterflies in her stomach. 

Emma Swan, 45th President of the United States of America, was screwed.


	2. Chapter 1

Emma Swan loved her job. It was the highest honor a politician could have.The American people had chosen her to be their leader over everyone else, and she finally had a very real chance to make her country a little bit better.

Despite her difficult past, she had risen to glory. 

Still, there were some parts of the presidency that were exceedingly dull. She was in the Oval Office, her secretary going over her schedule for the week. It was going to be a slew of meetings and conferences, a speech or two, and at the end of the week, the White House was holding a charity event. It would be a dignified event, with a dinner and some dancing. The White House event coordinator had booked the philharmonic orchestra.

Emma scanned the guest list, recognizing the names of many affluent politicians and visiting foreign diplomats. She glanced at the press list, her mind vaguely wondering to the charming reporter she met two weeks before. Her lips curved up when she saw his name on the list.

Killian Jones. 

It was foolish, but she’d thought of him often since he’d interviewed her. His article had been as unbiased as any news article could be, which was certainly saying something. From what she heard, the editor of The American Mirror, Regina Mills, wasn’t her biggest supporter. It said a lot about her journalistic integrity that she allowed one of her reporters to write such a supportive article. “It only took a brief meeting for my faith in President Swan to be confirmed, I believe she will go down in history os one of our nation’s most competent leaders.”

The final line of his article had stood out in her mind ever since her secretary had brought it to her to read. She pictured him smiling as he wrote it. His blue eyes twinkling. Her heart pitter pattered in her chest. 

Emma closed her eyes and put the list down. She shouldn’t be thinking of Killian Jones, or any man at all really. She had more important things to focus on. 

There was a knock on her door, and Emma called for the person to enter. The door opened to reveal David Nolan, the head of her security and her personal body guard. “Yes, David?”

“Madam President, I would like to go over security for Friday evening’s charity event.”

Emma glanced at her personal secretary. “You may go, Ms. French.”

The brunette woman nodded and excused herself from the office. 

As soon as the door was closed, Emma smiled at David. “How many times to I have to remind you to drop the formality. I might be the president, but I’m still the duckling that went to high school with you.”

David smiled. “No, you’re a swan now. You don’t need me to to protect you from bullies, and you got rid of those goofy glasses.In any case, a modicum of professionalism is still appropriate. Besides, President Swan just rolls off the tongue.”

“We used to dream about this in high school debate club,” Emma said.

“Yeah. Your take no prisoners rhetoric always dominated.”

Emma grinned. “Right, well, you came to go over security?”

“Since the event is at the White House, this makes things much easier. Your security team will consist of myself, Booth, and Humbert. There will be security at very door door of the ballroom, and the usual patrols.”

“Ah, Emma’s Angels?”

“Exactly, and should any of those dignitaries trample on your feet during dancing, you can flag me down and I will rescue you.”

“My hero,” Emma said. “And what about the merciless reporters?”

“Only a few are attending, and I’ve been assured by their editors that they will be nothing but professional.”

Emma’s thoughts once again drifted to Killian Jones. Some of the thoughts that had crossed her mind over the past two weeks were decidedly not professional. 

“What is it, Emma?” David asked.

“Nothing, just thinking,” Emma said.

“That’s your enamored face, Emma, and I haven’t seen it since right before senior prom. Who is it?”

Emma cursed the fact that David knew her so well. “I’m not enamored with anyone,” she said firmly. “But do you remember the three reporters that interviews me two weeks ago?”

“Sure,” David said. “I didn’t like the look of any of them.”

“Well, the last one, Killian Jones, he was rather . . . um . . . dashing.”

“Jones,” David said softly, and Emma saw the moment he recognized the name. “He’s the reporter that said you’d go down in history, isn’t he?”  
Emma nodded. 

“Well, he’s not stupid, I’ll certainly give him that. He’ll be at the event. I spoke with Ms. Mills yesterday. Apparently he is her star reporter.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Emma said. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” David said. 

“Make sure he has a good view of my table, for picture taking purposes. He wrote a wonderful article, the least I can do is give him a journalistic advantage.”

David gave her a look, and she knew he saw right through her flimsy excuse. “Will do, Emma.”

-/-

Regina Mills strutted into his office on Wednesday morning and placed yet another White House press pass on his desk. “There is a charity event at the White House on Friday evening. You’re going to cover it for the society column.”

Killian looked up from his computer. “Thank you for the honor, Ms. Mills.”

“You wrote an excellent article, and I reward good work, Jones. If you do well on this piece, you could be our regular reporter for White House events, so do well.”

“I’ll do my best, Ms. Mills,” Killian said with confidence.

She nodded and left the room without another word.

Killian traced the edges of the badge. Of course, he was glad to get high profile assignments for the sake of furthering his career, but this also meant that he could see the radiant President Swan up close again. 

She’d been in his thoughts constantly since he’s interviewed her two weeks prior. Of course he knew it was insane, she was unattainable. He’d always loved a challenge, but pursuing President Emma Swan was a suicide mission, and even if she did give him a passing glance, anything that happened between them would be passed off as a scandal, and with his luck, he’d be the one reporting on it.

It was all a moot point anyway. A woman like Emma Swan would never give him the time of day.

At least he’d get to see her again.

-/-

The dress she ordered for the charity event was her new favorite. It was a tasteful red gown, with off the shoulder sleeves and a long skirt that touched the floor and flared slightly at the hips. The sweetheart neckline was dignified, and she finished off the look with a string of pearls and a low chignon.   
“You look stunning, President Swan” said David, when he arrived, ready to escort her to the East Room where the event was being held.

“You look pretty sharp yourself, Mr. Nolan” Emma said, taking his arm.

Emma and David entered the East Room only to be blinded by camera flashes. 

A small platform had been set up so Emma could deliver her speech and start the event. She spoke in an unwavering commanding tone an explained that the money raised and donated tonight would go to the foster systems, in D.C., New York, and Boston. It was a cause that was near and dear other heart. At the end of her speech she thanked everyone for their attendance and for their support of a worthy cause. As she took David’s hand to step down from the platform, she glanced out over the crowd.

He was sitting two tables away from the head table. He was wearing a designer suit, his dark hair was perfectly askew, and his blue eyes were sparkling as he looked right at her. Her heart fluttered. Killian Jones could only be described as a lady killer.

Emma tried to focus on the debate going on at her table about the latest political debate in congress, and contributed half heartedly. In truth, she could practically feel Killian’s gaze on her. How dare he be able to distract her like that.

Emma managed to personally reel in a few huge checks for her cause. Some details of her past were widely known, like the fact that she had grown up in the foster system, and had eventually gotten a full ride scholarship to Harvard. No one knew what her life was like in those homes, but the details didn’t matter. She’d had a clean government record.

When dinner finished, the orchestra started to play. Mr. Booth, Mr. Humbert and David were sweeping the room from all different directions. 

Emma was asked to dance by a senator from New York. He guided her to the floor as a waltz began. “So, Madam President, I would like to thank you for donating a portion of the proceeds to the great state of New York.”

“A pleasure. I spent some time in New York when I was young, I would like to help those who are like me.” 

“A noble cause,” the senator said, his eyes drifting from her face to her neckline. Emma cleared her throat, determined to say something to distract him, when someone tapped on his shoulder.

The senator turned, and Emma caught a glimpse of Killian Jones. “May I cut in?”

The senator nodded, after a moment of hesitation and walked off the floor. 

Emma shot Killian a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said, “Senator Collins is not my favorite person.”

“He’s not very respectful, I might add,” Killian said, as he closed the distance between them, and started the dance.  
“Is that a journalistic observation,” Emma asked.

“More like a gut feeling,” Killian said. 

Emma laughed. “By the way, I’d like to thank you for your article. Reporters from The American Mirror haven’t always been my biggest supporters in the past.”

“So I gathered from my research, but I have always written fairly,” Killian said, “and if I may say so, Madam President, you are a political star on the rise.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Emma said, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. “Is that a gut feeling or a professional observation?”

“A little bit of both, I’d imagine,” Killian said. “I look forward to covering the event tonight. Your speech was rather moving, and it had many people in the room ready to pull out their check books.”

“All in a day’s work,” Emma said.”It’s a cause very near and dear to my heart, and you can quote me on that.”

“A direct quote from you will be the gem of the article,” Killian said.

The song ended a moment later, and Killian looked a little put out as he stepped away and thanked her for the dance.

Emma flashed him a smile as a congress man came to dance with her. 

Killian pulled out a notebook and wrote down her words, and tucked it back in his suit pocket. It was a near flawless event, and for a few moments, Killian had been able to hold that gorgeous woman in his arms. He was in too deep already, and he knew that if Regina Mills kept giving him Whit House assignments, he would only fall deeper.

He was a professional though. He could handle this. Or so he hoped.

-/-

Emma didn’t get to see Killian the rest of the night, but she did her best to make sure the event was a success. She wondered if her efforts would earn her another glowing article from Killian Jones.

She hoped so.

The event came to a close, and David appeared by her side to escort her back to her suite. “So, how do you think it went.”

“I heard from the event coordinator that we got dozens of six figured checks,” David said, “and there were no security troubles.”

“Excellent.”  
“So you’re not going to say anything about it?” David asked.

“About what?”

“I saw you dance with Jones.”

“He was very professional. I gave him a statement for his article.”

“And?”

“Still dashing,” Emma admitted.

“It seems that President Swan has a little crush,” David teased. “Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.”

“Thanks, David,” Emma said. They arrived at the door of her suite, and Emma embraced him. “Goodnight.”

Emma fell asleep that night and dreamed of dancing with Killian Jones.


End file.
